


Task: Find Avitus

by Tukkee



Series: At the Bottom of a Bottle of Tavum [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Aftermath, Alcohol, Dubious Consent, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tukkee/pseuds/Tukkee
Summary: The Turian Pathfinder Avitus has been missing for weeks, and Scott's been dispatched to hunt him down.





	Task: Find Avitus

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I may have accidentally posted my first draft last night without thinking or proofreading, so I spent the morning going through it and fixing just about everything. Also I initially wanted this to be a whole collection, but now I've decided to just post each addition separately. 
> 
> Please comment if you liked or even disliked it! :)

Sun poured into the tiny viewpoints on the Tempest’s hangar door, orange and purple refracting wildly through the many thick layers of clear plastic. Scott stood patiently in front, squinting through the light as the mechanical locks and gears inside the thick plate of steel whirled around. Steam shot outside the large vessel as the door slid down and out, folding neatly onto the humid ground of Kadara port. Scott dressed appropriately for someone out on a mission but had to blend in: tight trousers, a tank that draped loosely from his built shoulders, and an unzipped leather jacket. It was ironic, Scott thought, that he needed to appear hidden yet the only clothes he had all bared an Initiative emblem. Shrugging and making a mental note to order some threads without visibly indicative markers stitched onto them, Scotts stepped down and felt the first waft of geyser-injected air slap his face and nostrils. The oddly alien but growlingly natural scent jogged his memory of the assigned task on his arguably least favorite rock in the galaxy.

Avitus Rix had been missing, or rather he’d refused to check in with daily updates for the last two Nexus cycles. No one knew where he’d gone, or what the Turian had been planning before his suspiciously timed departure from his duties as Pathfinder. After the defeat of the Archon and establishment of Meridian as a passable colony, it was up to the respective Pathfinders to shepherd their own out of stasis and onto the ground of whichever planet they liked. Unsurprisingly, many had chosen the lush greens of Meridian and few chose the harsh deserts of Eos and Elaaden. An interestingly significant portion of the population had chosen the badlands of Kadara. Ryder couldn’t understand why, despite the many radioed warnings and travel restrictions imposed on the still dangerous planet. He figured it leant to the fantasy of the ancient wild west, an unruly place where one could live a life as lawless as they liked.

Lawless in the sense that after the change of power from Sloane to Reyes, Ryder had hoped for a little more progress from the Gibraltarian. But over the last few months, all Reyes could offer were slick, well-prepared statements about how difficult it would be to bring the opposing factions together under one unified command. So far, nothing came from Reyes' work besides random acts of violence and largely uninfluential protests regarding the proposition of unification. It sometimes made Ryder question his choice, killing Sloane and letting Vidal assume control of Kadara port. But the promise of a protected colony on the planet’s geyser littered surface, and a well-spent evening of casual drinks and copulation, led to the Pathfinder's choice. It certainly wasn’t the most unbiased decision Ryder could have made, but damn it did that Gibraltarian have way to work a tongue.

The first few steps off the ship were always the hardest, his limbs settling onto the ground with the effects of the ships artificial gravity lingering around enough to throw his balance completely off. He stumbled forward and caught himself, smiling brightly at the two guards holding back snickers directed towards arguably the most important person in the galaxy. Scott rolled his eyes, shook his ankles, and pressed forward down the corridor into the main loading docks. He reached the final door that for some reason or another always took the longest to unlock, and whipped out his arm to hail his head.

“SAM, any luck on finding something on Rix’s whereabouts?” Scott whispered, not wanting to draw further attention to himself.

“Nothing to report,” SAM was quick to answer, the monotonous tone in his voice humming gently in Ryder’s cochlea. “It seem Avitus has been incredibly cautious in deleting his tracks.”

“So it would seem. Any chance at getting into contact with his SAM?”

“All attempts have been unsuccessful in establishing a connection.”

“Is it offline?”

“Unknown.”

“What do you mean unknown?” Ryder asked, frustrated that the door was still registering and processing his identification. “Can’t you see whether or not his SAM is even on?”

“Normally, yes. But as I said, Avitus has been careful in his elopement. He may have rewritten, or had someone else rewrite his SAM’s coding to disallow a connection,” SAM explained, holding a pause before shifting his tone down a pitch. “Or worse.”

“Worse?” Ryder asked, slamming his fist on the slow opening door. "Like if he’s dead?"

“Exactly. The Nexus would have no way of knowing his status with his SAM disconnected.”

“Well I guess that’s why we’re here to find out,” Scott said as he pressed through the small opening allowed by the door, inpatient to let the whole thing open completely. The loud, bustling square of the port came into view and, to Ryder at least, seemed that all eyes were focused on him. Some bright, some angry, but all focused on the unexpected arrival of the human Pathfinder. Ryder smirked nervously and waved, dipping down the stairs and nearly sprinting towards Kralla’s Song.

The Tempest had gotten a tip a few days ago about a frequenter bearing a resemblance to the Turian Scott was hunting. The intentionally vague information came with a reminder that the full report wouldn't come without a price, and Ryder had SAM draft up a requisition directed to Tann asking to pay for what was essentially a ransom for the missing Turian. Ryder shifted some of his own credits around to pay the worthy price, and ordered SAM to hold the request until Ryder could look Avitus in the eye and determine his status. If not, he’d have even worse news to send to the Nexus.

The club was just as lively as the square outside, with patrons in varying states of inebriation dancing around the concrete and aluminum dance floor. Getting through proved hard enough, with Ryder’s short stature bumping into races of all kinds, which earned him less than enthusiastic looks from his fellow Milky Way-ers. The few Angaran that were there had a polar opposite reaction to the Pathfinder’s and Archon-Slayer’s presence, each offering to buy a drink for the man or invite him to their small pub tables. Ryder smiled and politely declined, prepositioning a rain check and promising that he’d be back another time.

He reached the bar and was greeted with a shining middle finger from the Asari behind the bar. “Nice to see you too, Umi,” Ryder sighed, licking his lips and leaning against the countertop.

“What the hell do you want, Pathfinder?” Umi growled, pouring a drink with clenched fists and slamming the near overflowing cup in front of a large Krogan beside her.

“You sent me an email about a Turian.”

“I did.”

“Where is he?”

“Nah ah ah,” Umi stepped forward, glaring into Scott’s testy eyes. “Money first.”

Scott furrowed his brow and raised his arm, the soft glow of his implant illuminating the space around them. He pressed a couple of buttons and brought his finger right above the confirmation tab, hovering it steadily as he looked back towards Umi. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll know where to go.”

“Why would I lie to you, Pathfinder?” Umi countered, her resolve strengthening against Scotts admittedly weak threat.

Scott looked her up and down and let his finger fall, sending her a distressingly large amount of cash. Umi’s gaze drifted down towards the ping from her omni-tool, signaling the transaction had been completed. In a matter of milliseconds, just like that, her entire demeanor changed. With the sudden profit now buried into her electronic wallet, there wasn’t a need for her overtly tough-gal attitude. Her back loosened and her smile returned, leaning close to Ryder in an instantly flirtatious kind of way.

“Avitus, right? You’re looking for him?” she asked softly, just loud enough for Ryder to hear through the blaring music.

“That’s right,” Scott confirmed. “You said you saw him a couple days ago?”

“He was sitting right over there,” Umi explained, pointing towards a table hugging the ledge overlooking the wilds of Kadara.

“He came alone?”

“Yeah, but only for a little bit. He just sat there, ordering every once in a while. Didn’t cause a fuss, didn’t stir up trouble. My kind of guy.”

“Really? I would’ve pegged you for someone who loved a bit of trouble,” Scott said.

“I love a bit of trouble, just not at work. The smoother the work day the better, wouldn’t you agree Pathfinder?”

“I’m sure my idea of a smooth work day differs wildly from yours,” Scott joked.

“Meeting new people and hoping none of ‘em will shoot you is a pretty universally smooth out in Heleus, Ryder,” Umi said, grabbing a glass and pouring a drink.

“I suppose it is,” Ryder laughed. Umi pressed the drink froward and he waved his hand above it, smiling softly. “No thanks, I’m on the clock.”

Umi shrugged and took the shot to her own mouth, gulping it down in such a naturalistic motion it brought a few claps from the other men and women encircling the counter. “Suit yourself.”

“You said he was alone for a while, implying that he wasn’t afterwards.”

“Yeah some Angaran guy came and sat down with him. The two shared a drink and got to talking, your friend getting handsy with him,” Umi explained, eyes wiggling a hair. “Like real handsy.”

“I got it,” Ryder said, waving a few fingers in front of her implicative lips. “How long did they stay?”

“Not long after. Avitus paid for everything, even left a nice tip, and strolled out of here with other in tow.”

“He come back since?”

“Not up here, no,” Umi said, her pointer finger angling down to point below the two. “I went ahead and asked Kian down in Tartarus to keep an eye out for a high spending Turian, and to hold him there for you."

"Well? Is he there?"

"Mhmm," Umi said. "According to him, he's been there all afternoon getting his rocks off.”

“Wait, if he’s been down in the slums the whole time, then why’d you make me come and see you?" Ryder asked pointedly. "You could’ve just emailed me that he was down there.”

“And miss out on such a nice payday?” Umi said with a laugh. “You really are naive, huh? How the hell'd they make you Pathfinder?”

Ryder glared and straightened up, readying to leave. “Anything else you can tell me, Umi?”

“Other than he looked stressed out and despondent?” Umi added, stepping back. "No."

Ryder nodded and looked down at his omni-tool, signaling SAM. “SAM put in that request for credits from Tann, and let him now we’ve got a lead on him.”

“Damn, got the whole Initiative looking for him?” Umi asked with a toothy grin. Ryder only nodded, lips unmoving. Umi lowered her own and leaned forward a final time. “Listen, I have some friends back on the Nexus. Turian friends. They’re starting to get antsy about not having a Pathfinder, especially after all you guys did to get to Meridian. I don’t know what you lot do now since you seemed to have settled every rock in the galaxy but...”

“But?” Ryder pressed.

“Do what you can. If not for the Initiative, for everyone who’s counting on Avitus.”

Ryder nodded and smiled weakly, watching Umi return the nod and pivot back towards the growing line of thirsty customers. Scott pushed his way back out of the sea of people and back out to the docks.

The sun was further down in the horizon and the reserve lights started to flicker on, something unknown to the Pathfinder until right that moment. He had never seen Kadara port at night, his trips and missions never seemed to last long enough to see the other times of day. Even then, he was on the surface below ensuring the safety and longevity of the colony he ruthlessly fought to be established.

Smirking, Scott meandered back towards the freight elevator down to the slums below. The bright lights from the Tempest cut through the metal pillars and wire-framed grates of the small docking station. Aside from him, there weren’t too many stragglers left tending to their duties. A lone worker struggled to lift a final crate before clocking out and a couple of Angara talked quietly amongst themselves on the second floor, bored of their presumed security assignment.

“SAM?” Ryder asked, flicking on his omni-tool and fiddling around with it nonchalantly to make it look like he was busy too.

“Yes, Pathfinder?” came the calm voice in his ears.

“Call Vetra, she might be able to help out with Rix.”

“Patching her through, Pathfinder,” SAM ended with a click, followed by an oddly analog sounding ringtone, something humanity never bothered to change in eight hundred years ago. Unless in the time Ryder and the rest of the Initiative left the Milky Way there was some massive overhaul in the way calling someone sounded, of course.

The soft buzz ceased and out came a low, grumbled voice, “What?”

“Wakey wakey, sleepy head,” Ryder forced a cheerful voice, mocking the clearly just roused one on the other end.

“Ryder, I love you buddy, but it’s my shore leave,” Vetra hissed, the sound of her rustling around her bunk coming through clearly.

“It’s everyone’s shore leave, Vetz,” Ryder grinned, stepping into the recently arrived elevator and slamming the comically large down button with his sneakered foot. He looked up to the Tempest, eyes blindly tracing his mentally retained map of the ship’s innards to find the crew’s quarters. “C’mon, I need you down here.”

“No,” came Vetra’s quick reply.

“I’m going to Tartarus, and I need a drinking buddy.”

“Call your boyfriend,” Vetra groaned, certainly sounding over the conversation.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Ryder scoffed, shifting uncomfortably as if being monitored by the man in question right that moment. He eyes shot up at a small security camera mounted to the box he was in, playfully glaring at the Charlatan’s glossy, black lens. “He’s not,” Ryder reiterated.

“Okay, what about your other boyfriend?”

“My what?” Ryder raised his voice, pressing his feet down on the descending metal plate in genuine confusion. “Which other—"

“Jaal,” Vetra said coolly, deliberately. “I can go get him for you if—”

“No!” Ryder yelled, his voice reverberating around the stone tube he fell through. “No, Vetz, please—”

“Relax,” Vetra drawled, snickering throughout.

"How the hell do you know about that?”

"I read it in your diary?" Vetra joked. “I mean, c'mon Ryder, it’s no secret that you have the hots for him.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Scott sighed, head shaking. "Are you the only one?"

"Probably. I'm not completely inattentive like the rest of the ship.”

“I know, I know,” Ryder growled. “It’s just… Don't tell anyone."

“Don't worry, Scott” Vetra asked, the sound of her landing gracefully on the floor perking Ryder up. “So why do you need me down there? Aside from the obvious reason of me being a totally awesome date.”

“I found Rix,” Ryder said plainly, falling into silence for a few beats and waiting for Vetra to respond first.

“You have?”

“I think,” Ryder confirmed, “I think he’s been holing up here for God knows how long. I’m on my way to see him now, and could use your—”

“Turian expertise?” Vetra interrupted.

“Muscle, mostly,” Ryder joked. “You know how weak I am without a gun.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty useless,” Vetra laughed back.

“And you know all about Reyes’ ‘no guns’ rule on Kadara.”

“Intimately,” Vetra said, sighing heavily. “Yeah, I’ll be down. But you are definitely paying for all my drinks.”

“It wouldn’t be a night out with Vetz without me paying for everything, now would it?” Ryder smiled, watching the cave mouth open up and expand as the elevator slowed its descent. “Just don’t go too overboard, we’re here for Rix.”

"Buzzkill."

"We can party all we want later, okay? I swear."

“Roger, roger,” Vetra acknowledged before ending the call. The tiny beep from Ryder’s omni-tool coincided with the slam of the lift, resting less than gently at the wet floor of the slum village.

Unlike the brightly lit port in the canopy above, the slums were hidden in near total darkness. Small lights glowed from the door latches and did little to illuminate the dingy paths between the scrappily erected buildings littering the large grotto. Distant sounds of machines whirling, drugs injecting, and minor scuffles could be hard from all directions, the dense enclosure acting to echo literally every noise down in the depths. It made it harder to pinpoint where something was happening until it was happening right on top of you, something Ryder feared would happen to him and his weaponless self. Vetra couldn’t come quicker, he thought, but he knew her well enough to not expect her for some time.

He managed to walk safely through the dark and stepped up to Tartarus, using the small lights on the electronic door as a guide. He swiped his omni-tool and opened the hatch, being instantly greeted by blaring music and an ankle deep haze of smoke and other inhalants. Two large bouncers eyed Ryder up and down before motioning him inward, pressing him along silently and latching the entrance seamlessly. Dancers of all species swarmed the relatively new face, each casting a winking eye and sultry promise of a good time towards the admittedly bashful Pathfinder. Scott waved and shrugged his way past, heading straight for the barkeep and all-around wiseman for the slums.

“Kian,” Ryder shouted, the music objectively louder than Kralla’s Song.

“Upstairs, Pathfinder,” Kian pointed through the barred window.

“Umm,” Scott bit, turning around to follow the finger. “Thanks.”

“That was easy,” SAM mused, his voice refreshingly clear in Scott's head.

“Yeah, I guess he wants to get him out of here as much as we do,” Ryder said quietly to his AI. He rounded some more dancers working up a sweat behind metal cages and some mentally dissociating Salarians in the final moments before passing out in the chairs. Up the back stairs, he passed an Asari courting a Krogan, the latter acting all manner of disinterest in the heavy handed approach from the smaller woman. Ryder chuckled and continued up as his eyes caught the large Krogan’s, his hushed rejections falling on the Asari’s deaf ears. The smoke had cleared once Scott reached the top and it felt discernibly easier to breathe, though the music seemed to be conversely louder than the first level. The walls looked brighter too, what with the haze gone and the continual laser show frisking along the cold walls. Vibrating neon beams that were spaced along the side of the bar disoriented the Pathfinder, who wobbled his way across the overarching balcony and right to the door Kian had directed him to.

Not even bothering to politely knock on the heavy blast door, Ryder swiped his hand just above and let the gears squeeze around and whoosh open. More smoke emptied onto the grated floor where Ryder stood, denser and more cough-inducing than the fumes below. His eyes burned and his nostrils flared, inhaling the shockingly familiar scent of Earth-grown tobacco. He'd have to ask what hurdles Avitus went through to grab such a rare and delicious leaf, Ryder thought, fully foreseeing a completely illegal answer. He pushed inside the room and the door slid shut behind him, killing all exterior sound with it. A small ringing growing in the Pathfinder’s inner ear from the sudden shift while the music from the club changed to rumble violently through the space-grade insulated walls and floor. The tinnitus slowly diminished and was replaced with the low grunts and moans of two men seated in the large sectional couch wrapping the wall of the room.

A bright pink light from a single bulb shown down on the two, spreading onto the bodies of one Angaran and gratefully the Turian Pathfinder. Ryder stepped forward well enough to catch an explicit glimpse of the two aliens in the throws of a presumably brokered hookup. The Angaran, skin moist with sweat, bioluminescence cascading up and around his curves, straddled the other with his knees digging deep into the seat behind the Turian Pathfinder. The Angaran’s head flung back and his open mouth gasped at each thrust from the man under him. His purple and webbed hands looked to have no idea what to do, constantly moving from his frame, to his arousal, to Rix’s neck and shoulders. He looked like he was enjoying himself, although Ryder considered the hefty fees courtesans typically charge even in the slums to be a significant factor in the Angaran’s outward display.

Rix’s lust and performance on the other hand looked genuine. His eyes were hooded, a libertine grin slapped on his face. His dark, toned, and comparatively small frame contrasted starkly against the Angaran’s wide, muscular one, but Rix seemed to be in full control of the situation. His pants were synced to his huffs and his hands were busy exploring the Angaran’s lower half, kneading and spreading the copious amounts of well-developed flesh. Rix’s lips clamped down on the Angaran’s neck, piercing hard enough for the man on top to wince and grit his teeth. The tempo never picked up or slowed down, Rix being content with the established rhythm of the deep and passionate looking fuck. God, Ryder kind of wished that were him.

“Ryder,” SAM interjected, breaking Scott’s impressed and envious stare.

“I know,” Ryder adjusted, straightening up and clearing his throat loud enough to draw the attention of the Angaran.

The Angaran shouted and toppled backward, the wet sound of a cock popping out of his ass reverberating all the way to Ryder’s ears. The Angaran slammed to the floor and scurried back, the waves of shock fading quickly enough for him to catch his breath.

“Hey baby, what’s wrong?” Rix slurred, sitting upright in his seat, cock bobbing up and down as if attempting to relocate the other’s ass.

“I thought it would just be the two of us?” the Angaran seethed, shooting up and covering his lower half with his hand.

“It IS just us two, babe,” Avitus growled, “now get back over here and make me feel good.”

“No, you paid for one, not two,” the Angaran spoke, rounding towards a table to gathering his clothes. His eyes never left Scott’s, who had come into full view of the room.

“Uh,” Ryder started, eyes looking anywhere but at the naked Pathfinder and his companion. “Hey Avitus. And…?”

“It does not matter. I am leaving,” the Angaran said, fastening his belt and storming past Scott and out into the club. Avitus’ eyes followed the departing courtesan and as he was about to shout a final protest, his eyes drew up to Ryder’s.

“Oh, hey Ryder,” Rix said calmly, throwing Scott for a loop.

“Oh hey?” Ryder mimicked, walking to the table where the Angaran dressed and grabbing Rix’s own garb.

“I guess you finally found me, huh?” Rix said with a grin, possibly of pride for having alluded the great, famous Scott Ryder and the Initiative for as long as he did.

“I guess I did,” Ryder returned quietly. He threw Rix his clothes, watching them land at the other’s feet. His eyes drew up and lingered for a moment longer at the Turian’s fleeting erection, still moist and slick from the Angaran’s ass.

“You want to finish me off, Pathfinder?” Rix chuckled, readying his pants and feeding his legs through one by one.

“Cmon, Rix,” Ryder blushed, eyes darting to the steel ceiling.

“I’m messing with you, Pathfinder,” Rix smiled, hoisting the waist up from under him and snapping the front button. “You’re the Charlatan’s bitch anyways, I can’t go riskin’ my head stealing the boss’ main squeeze.”

“I’m no one's squeeze,” Scott scoffed. Rix’s reply came in the form of a unimpressed look, his small, dilated eyes rolling. Ryder shrugged his nose at him and stepped to sit down beside the once-missing Turian. “What’s been up with you?”

“I just got stiffed by a whore,” Avitus sighed as his hand blindly fished for the half-full glass beside him on the floor. “So, not that great.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry that I walked in on that,” Ryder choked.

“It’s fine, wasn’t even that good now that I think about it,” Rix mumbled, placing his glass to his lips and throwing the remains into his mouth.

“I would’ve let you finish if fetching you weren’t so important,” Ryder explained.

“Important to who?” Rix hissed at the strong beverage trickling down his throat. “Tann?”

“Not Tann,” Ryder lied.

“Good, because fuck that guy. Thinking he owns the place.”

“He does,” Ryder reasoned softly. “Technically.”

“This galaxy isn’t ours, it’s not supposed to be owned,” Rix grumbled as he finished his drink. He stood and wobbled to the side bar, fingering through the stock of Milky Way familiarities and some foreign bottles. “You ever have Tavum?”

“Once or twice,” Ryder admitted, shifting on the couch. Rix winked at the man and turned to pull a second glass from the shelf, fixing the two a drink.

“You know, the Angara prefer to drink this with water?” Rix mused, handing Ryder a cold glass and swirling his own.

“Kinda like whiskey,” Ryder hummed as he rolled the glass in his fingers and sniffed the alien liquor. “It’s hot.”

“Yeah, they prefer it mixed into hot water,” Avitus said with an equal level of perplexedness. “Like tea, or soup.”

“That’s not an appetizing comparison.”

“Hey, it’s their culture and their galaxy, I'm just living in it.”

“Ryder, I suggest not drinking until after escorting the Pathfinder safely to the Tempest,” SAM suggested.

“Don’t worry, he’ll come no matter what,” Ryder whispered back, knocking back the strong drink.

“Talking to SAM?” Avitus asked, his long finger swaying towards Scott’s brow. “That little implant analyzing me?”

“To an extent,” Ryder calmly responded, using his rather limited and underdeveloped skills of diplomacy to not start a ruckus with the Turian. “He’s just making sure you’re not gonna kick, scream, or die when we leave. He wants you to be safe.”

“I am perfectly safe,” Avitus smirked. He finished his glass and plopped down on the couch next to Scott, his heat radiating all the way to the human. Rix sighed heavily, scratched his carapace, licked his lips. “Safest since Macen and this whole passing of the torch nonsense.”

“Is that why you disappeared?” Ryder asked bluntly, figuring that any further small talk would get the two of them nowhere closer to leaving.

“Well done, detective,” Rix winked. “The Initiative trained you well. You know it’s funny, people have been much nicer to me since taking off that badge. People out here really don’t like us, Ryder. Well, don’t like you—”

“Avitus,” Ryder softly begged.

The Turian looked to his exposed feet, wiggling his toes and curling them against the cold floor. “Ever since finding Macen—finding what happened to Macen, it’s felt like this giant blur. Suddenly I’m Pathfinder, suddenly I have duty and responsibility I’ve never trained for, suddenly I’m,” Avitus paused to rub his fingers, picking idly at the tips, “alone. You ever been alone, Ryder? Like truly alone?”

“I mean, we’ve all experienced something like that—”

“Not like this,” Avitus mumbled. “Not like Macen and I.”

“I know what it’s like to lose a loved one,” Scott whispered. “My mother died before we left the Milky Way, I nearly lost my sister when we crashed into the Scourge, and I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve nearly lost a team member.”

“If you lost one of your team, would you know what to do?” Rix nudged.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Ryder conceded, finishing his drink and fighting back a cough from the dangerously high-proof concoction. “But that’s kinda the point, right? Not knowing what to do, and being scared shitless, but pulling through anyway because you don’t want to have to face the worst.”

“I faced the worst, though. My worst,” Rix mulled, twisting in his seat. His long fingers felt up to his chest, poking the spot where his Initiative badge would have rested. “I tried, Ryder. I really did.”

“I know you did,” Ryder said, laying a hand on the other’s thigh and feeling it tense. “But that’s why I’m here, to make sure you’re going to keep doing it.”

Rix looked up, eyes welling and nares shivering. “I don’t think I can.”

“Macen would have wanted you to,” Ryder squeezed. “Or else he wouldn’t have made you Pathfinder.”

“Macen never wanted to give me the job.”

“But he picked you because he had to,” Ryder said. “Macen probably didn’t expect to have to pass it on to you, but all expectations flew out the fucking window when we got to Helius.”

“I know, Ryder,” Rix breathed. He sat silently and rolled his neck, squinting up at the pink spotlight. “Just sucks.”

“Yeah,” Scott chuckled. “It’s like that sometimes.”

“Is it hard?” Rix asked softly, his hand resting on Scott’s. “Being the most famous man in the galaxy?”

“Incredibly,” Scott frowned.

Avitus squeezed and then patted Scott’s dark hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I like helping people, even if they don’t want to admit it,” Ryder winked. He shook his shoulders and stood up, stretching his already tipsy limbs. “Which is why I think Macen appointed you, because you're the only guy he trusted enough to help your people the way he wanted to."

"Yeah," Avitus frowned, propping up and arching his back. "I guess we'll never know what he wanted to do."

"He wanted you to succeed, so fucking succeed," Ryder said, reaching a hand down to lift Avitus off the couch. "Alright man, let’s get you home. Someone’s gotta be there when the rest of the Turians start waking up, and I doubt you want it to be Tann.”

“And explain to them why shit’s hit the fan,” Rix chuckled sadly. “And half of our people are fucking missing or dead.”

“It's a rough job, but no one is better suited than you, Avitus,” Ryder frowned after a pause, extending his other hand out to stroke the man's arm kindly. Avitus nodded and quietly finished dressing, clumsily slipping through his shirt and stepping over his drunk feet to fasten his boots. Ryder watched Rix reach for the bottle of Tavum and stick it down the front of his pants, making zero effort to make it stand out less against his pelvis. Ryder wanted to object to the action, especially thinking how it wouldn’t possibly fool anyone, but Scott wasn’t about to waste more time trying to convince the Turian to leave something he probably paid for.

Scott led the man out of the room and down the stairs, eyes from other courtesans and dancers tracing angrily at the two leaving Pathfinders. Word had surely spread in the club about the unfortunate incident with the still nameless Angaran and horny Turian, and with each glance came a silent order never to return to the establishment. At least, not without deeper pockets to make up for the hullabaloo.

At the bottom, Scott spotted Vetra hugging the bar and conversing with some Asari women, trading whispers and gentle touches against exposed skin. Ryder had completely forgot that he ordered her down to help, and while thankful he ended up not needing her company, was still disappointed that she didn't seek him out the moment she walked in. He cleared his throat from across the room, locking eyes with his late crew member and frowning. She shrugged her shoulders at the two men, mouthed a quick apology, then turned to her guests to wish them a hurried goodbye. She slammed her drink down and jogged to Scott and Avitus, meeting them at the heavy front door.

“I thought you were gonna help,” Ryder scolded, motioning Rix out the door into the dark.

“You clearly didn’t need it,” Vetra waved to Avitus, smiling as the man stumbled onto the unstable and uneven surface of the planet.

“Still would’ve been nice,” Ryder rolled his eyes. “I had to interrupt something I didn’t really need to see.”

“I heard, everyone was talking about it in there,” Vetra confirmed.

“Fuck,” Scott hissed.

“You didn’t join in, did you?”

“No!” Ryder blushed, slapping Vetra’s shoulder.

“Whatever you say, Pathfinder,” Vetra smiled, hands extending out as if to beg like a child would do to their rearer. “Money please.”

“Not this time,” Ryder glared back, finger raised and waving.

“C’mon, I only had one!” Vetra playfully frowned.

“Exactly, just one,” Ryder jeered. “I’m sure your salary and litany of side jobs banks you enough for one drink.”

Vetra stood silent and nodded, readying her omni-tool and thumbing through the appropriate screens to make the transaction. Ryder huffed and walked out, chasing after Rix who already reached the elevator at the far end of the cavern. How he managed to walk there without incident while blasted was lost on Ryder, who had his own trouble navigating down the far-reaching den. Vetra was right behind them, smartly shining a light mounted on her visor to help the floundering human.

The three climbed into the lift and rode it to the top, feeling every bump and chaffed section of rusty metal on the ascent. Rix assured them it would be safe, but it was something entirely different feeling since the last time Ryder had used the elevator, which was not an hour ago. If he had to guess, it was the drink Scott downed in the bar that left him on edge. Earth liquor never acted in any other way than to loosen the young man, but Tavum was a different and odd beast, something he’d have to ask Jaal and Lexi about once he got back to the ship.

Ryder looked over to Avitus and found that he had since removed the bottle from his pants and had downed a significant portion of it. He offered the bottle to Ryder and Vetra, but both politely shook their hands away, much to the drunk delight of Rix who put another shot or two down his throat. Getting him out of the bar and agreeing to report back to the Initiative wasn’t as difficult as Ryder expected it to be, but getting him to follow through with it all would be a plainly harder task. It could not have been easy for the drunk Turian, Scott thought, being called upon yet again to shepherd his entire race into a new galaxy, but someone had to do it. The feelings of inadequacy and fear hit every Pathfinder equally, but Ryder supposed Avitus took a little longer than the others to get past them.

Ryder frowned when Avitus looked up at him as the lift slowed towards the top. Rix’s eyes were glossy and half open, his gait wobbly and light, and his mouth open taking slow, deep breaths. He looked sleep-deprived. He looked congested. He looked lost. Macen appointed Avitus personally and maybe something got lost in the briefing that Avitus would have to rise to the challenge when called upon. Two lovers getting to work together and start a fresh life in an exciting new place would’ve fogged up anyone’s sense of reality and commitment to the job. And miserably, when Macen passed that reality came crashing hard for Avitus, who probably only accepted the position for selfish, devoted reasons. Ryder smiled a small, weak grin and received one in return, equally tiny and unsure.

SAM had readied the departure codes and procedures as the three reached the dock and exited the lift. The familiar sound of the engines spinning to life struck the three as they stepped through the hangar door. Vetra helped Avitus up the steps, gripping his shoulders sturdily and leading his towards the bunks. The rest of the crew on board waved and welcomed the no-longer-missing Pathfinder, who responded with delight and surprise. Ryder smiled and pressed on the control panel to close the door.

“Vetra, hold up!” Ryder shouted over the sound of the latches snapping shut. “I can take him to my room.”

“You sure?” Vetra said, rubbing the tired Turain’s shoulders.

“Yeah, he can shower and sleep on something better than a cot or whatever he's been crashing on,” Scott nodded, brushing her hands off the drifting Pathfinder. “He’s gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Yeah, no doubt,” Vetra laughed.

“Alright, you go and tell Kallo we’re ready to boogie on out of here,” Ryder said, starting his way to his quarters. Vetra nodded and took the ladder up to the bridge.

Avitus wasn’t that difficult to navigate, in fact for someone as drunk as he, Ryder was surprised that he took direction well. The crew he passed on the trip to his room all offered to help, but Scott was having luck just using his words to lead the drunk Turian to his door. A quick recognition of the quarter's owner and the entrance whooshed open. The sudden sound and waft of warm air stirred the slipping Avitus, who opened his eyes and whistled softly.

“Nice digs, Pathfinder,” Avitus commented, shrugging off Scott’s guiding hands and stepping further into the spacious room.

"The perks of saving the galaxy, I guess," Scott chuckled. Through the surrounding windows, the two watched the Tempest rise and depart the port. Within moments they were in space, the jungle world growing smaller with each second. Rix yawned and turned towards Scott, who was fishing out a spare towel and set of clothes from the closet.

Avitus closed the gap between the two. “What’re those for?”

“Don’t you want to shower and change out of those?” Ryder mused, back still turned towards the Turian.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Avitus said, looking down at his tattered garb.

“SAM can you ready the shower for Avitus?” Ryder asked.

“Certainly, Pathfinder,” SAM replied immediately.

Scott looked through the sizeable pile of shirts, each branding the Initiative emblem on the chest. Ryder had various sizes and colors stored for his shipmates, in case they ever needed a replacement. Granted it seemed like no one but Ryder and Cora wore them anyway, he still liked to harbor them for unlikely moments like this. Scott grabbed one and hoped it would fit the Turian, quickly turning around to meet the eye-dilating sight of the naked Pathfinder.

“Oh,” Ryder coughed, body seizing up, “my God.”

Avitus didn’t say anything and stepped further forward, hands latching onto Scott’s waist. His face drew close enough to lock lips with the human, whose mouth was already open just wide enough in shock for Avitus to thrust a drunk tongue inside. Ryder’s eyes grew wide, his hands released the shirt and towel, and his knees locked uncomfortably. Avitus pulled them closer, his reanimated erection poking at Scott’s stomach. He broke the kiss and leaned into Ryder’s ear, hands running back to start to lift the shirt and jacket hugging the Pathfinder’s back.

“You know, I never got an answer back at the bar,” Rix hummed confidently, one hand slipping down Scott’s pants to grip a hefty portion of his ass. “Did you want to finish me off?”

“Rix, I—” Scott started, inadvertently moaning when Avitus squeezed his smooth flesh hard.

“I know you like guys, Scott,” Rix licked Ryder’s ear. “And I know all about what Reyes does to you.”

Ryder gasped again as Avitus’ fingers began to explore his backside more thoroughly. “Avi—”

“What Reyes,” Rix whispered as he pulled back to stare down the Pathfinder, “makes you do to him.”

“Avitus, please,” Ryder blinked, his breath heavy and labored. The shot or two of Tavum from earlier came roaring back like a freight train, knocking Ryder for a loop. His face was on fire, his stomach doing flips, and his pants were growing a smidge tighter.

“Hmm?” Rix mused, stepping back a pace. His arms slithered away from their spots and grabbed Ryder’s wrists. He watched the human catch his breath, grinning carnally when Scott stole back a hand to reach down to adjust the front of his pants. “You don’t want to?”

Ryder gathered himself and looked up at the Turian, soaking in the man in front of him, naked and clearly, sizably hungry. Ryder shook his head and started to laugh, at first under his breath and then more vocally. Avitus chuckled nervously and stroked Scott’s neck, pulling him closer and wordlessly asking him for a kiss. Ryder leant into the embrace but instead of meeting him at the mouth, he swerved to peck Avitus on the cheek.

“Look, Avitus,” Ryder smiled gently, running his soft fingers around the Turians curves and tendrils. “I’m flattered. Like, incredibly.”

“But…,” Avitus led, smiling back.

“I can’t,” Scott sighed. “Not right now, it doesn’t feel… right.”

“Understood,” Avitus nodded, stepping a full step away from the other, dropping his arms by his sides.

“I’m sorry, Avitus,” Ryder frowned, grabbing one of the Turian’s hands.

Avitus chuckled and smiled warmly, squeezing Scott’s fingers, “Don’t be sorry, Ryder. I’m not gonna force you to do something you have no interest in doing.”

“It’s not that I don’t have an interest in,” Ryder gulped, eyes dancing around toned alien, “you and your clearly impressive traits.”

“All those years of being a Spectre slave really did wonders for me, huh?” Avitus winked, posing openly and shaking his cock in a small gesture of pride.

“But right now isn’t a good time,” Ryder finished, hand sliding out of Rix’s grip.

“I understand,” Avitus smiled. He stretched his limbs and licked his lips, blindly watching Ryder fetch the downed clothes and hand them to him. “Humor me, is that a ‘no’ for now, or a ‘no’ forever?”

“For now,” Scott laughed.

“Good,” Avitus smiled. “I wasn’t kidding about what I said earlier. The Charlatan may have most of his cards close to his chest, but he boasts about you. A lot.”

“Fuck me,” Ryder winced, already knowing the answer before even asking the question. “What about?”

“Let’s just say,” Avitus hummed, stepping around the Pathfinder and straight towards the bathroom, “if you and I have a little alone time, I want to do what I’ve heard you can do.”

Ryder balked with wide eyes and watched the Turian glide away into the bathroom, softly latching the door shut. A low groan of pleasure came from the closed-off room, presumably either from Rix stepping into the perfectly warmed shower or him beginning to finally finish himself off. Scott smirked at the thought of the latter and walked to SAM’s console.

“When he’s done, send him straight to bed,” Ryder requested.

“Will do, Pathfinder,” SAM acknowledged.

“And can you put in a call to Tann? Just a voicemail, tell him we found Rix and are bringing him home. And remind him about reimbursing me.”

“Yes, Ryder,” SAM said with programmed calm. “Will you be residing with Avitus tonight?”

“No!” Ryder choked, genuinely surprised at the question. “No, SAM, he can have the bed to himself."

"What will you do, then? It is getting late, Pathfinder."

"I dunno, SAM. I’ll probably see who’s still up and find something to do.”

“Jaal is awake in his quarters, Ryder,” SAM said, an almost unnaturally direct inference in the AI’s tone.

“How do I turn you off like Avitus did his?” Ryder sneered.

“Do not joke about that, Scott,” SAM said, his calm returning. “I can analyze Avitus more thoroughly while he sleeps to determine exactly how his implant was disconnected.”

“Do it,” Scott smiled and stretched, a yawn creeping out of his lips. He opened his omni-tool and dimmed the lighting, letting the vast blackness of space enter the warm quarters. The dotted stars and planets blanketed the windows, the perfect view for a good night's rest. While Ryder was a little upset that he wouldn’t get that rest in his comfortable bed, he thought it’d be nice to return to the nostalgic life of shared, personality-free bunks. Assuming he even got some sleep tonight, he was still pretty wired from the day's events and wanted to just blow off his pent up steam.

Scott heard a ping from his desk, an alert from Tann acknowledging the success of the task and a quick but leisurely order to return to the Nexus. Suspiciously, there wasn't any mention of the reimbursement from the ransom, but Scott figured he'd just have to berate the Salarian in person back on the Nexus. He swung around and snatched the discarded bottle of Tavum, which lay invitingly on the bed, and two glasses. Avitus wasn’t going to need the rest of this, Scott thought, and he figured he owed it to Vetra to at least split the rest of the contents since she actually made an effort to help.

“SAM, where’s Vetra?” Ryder asked as he heard the shower cease across the room.

“She is currently on the bridge, Pathfinder,” SAM replied.

“Thanks, SAM,” Ryder grinned, stepping through the door into the bowels of the ship. “Let me know if Avitus needs anything.”


End file.
